


The Empty Desert

by JamesKeller



Series: Empty Desert Series [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alcohol, Angst, Artificial Intelligence, Badass, Cybernetics, Cyberpunk, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Dystopia, Family, Family Issues, Fighting, Fights, Friendship, Gen, Global Warming, Gritty, Introspection, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Orphanage, Orphans, Outer Space, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse, Teenagers, Tension, Thriller, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesKeller/pseuds/JamesKeller
Summary: After climate change has left the Earth unable to support life, humanity has taken to the stars to in giant, city-sized space station to find a new planet to call home. But, after centuries of searching, they haven't been able to find one. Now, with oxygen levels dropping and an a mysterious alien threat, mankind stands on the brink with no solid ground.On the eve of the anniversary of the infamous 'Rhea Massacre', a young orphan girl with secrets has appeared at the orphanage on the City-Station of Wakefield. A military Commander has arrived, carrying with him a dark conspiracy. And the lives of three young people will be forever changed.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Empty Desert Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823161





	1. Ash, with an H

It must've been a beautiful sight. Being able to just look up and see the stars that filled the infinite horizon outside. That certainly must've been what the engineers had in mind when they designed the ceiling of the casino. The largest section by far, the casino nearly spanned the length of the entire ship. Spacious and luxurious, even with hundreds of people, it never felt crowded with the patrons evenly distributed among various bars, gambling machines, and card tables. And above it all was a great dome that would've given those patrons a glorious view of the Empty Desert; the cold, empty void that rested outside the hull of the cruiser. The nothingness that gave no obstruction to the cosmos, all of the stars, and, of course, the great red monster that towered over the entire sector.

The Madralen Nebula was nowhere near the cruise ship but that wouldn't stop anyone from recognizing the sheer size of it. It would've taken up the entire view of the clear dome above the casino. The deck was clearly designed with the giant gas cloud in mind as the casino had dim blue lighting that would have contrasted itself quite well with the red nebula. The low lighting plus the overall design was meant to create an intimate experience for the patrons despite its overall size. That was the idea at least.

It must've been a beautiful sight. Ash thought to himself again as he looked up at the ceiling and saw no stars...no big, red nebula. The dome had been boarded up. Though, perhaps, 'ironed up' was the better expression as that's what was now up there. Just the iron plating of the ship's hull plastered over the dome in place of the see-through plastic that obviously used to be there. It wasn't even aesthetically pleasing to look at. The metal material was clearly recycled scrap with welding spots easily spotted from below thanks to the bright white lights that were now attached to the ceiling. What was once a perfectly lit casino now looked completely washed out. It felt like it as well. Ash could feel the heat of those lights beaming down on him. He had been wiping sweat from his forehead during the entire game.

Fear makes everything Ugly. Ash thought while pressing the button on his vape, taking in a strong dose of nicotine.

"Hey!"

Ash looked down mid-inhale and stared at the other players. The one sitting to his right impatiently asked. "You folding or what?"

Exhaling the vapor, Ash lifted up the cards in front of him to take a quick glance at his hand. A seven of clubs and jack of diamonds. Not a bad hand. "I call.'

He tossed the necessary chips forward and returned to his vape as the player to his right followed with a call of his own. There was a mocking sigh from the man sitting directly across from him. "I call...and call and call. That's all you ever do."

"Not true." Ash responded smugly. "Sometimes I fold."

The man opposite shook his head while the betting continued around the table. "Why don't you grow some balls?"

"I seem to be doing just fine without them," Ash motioned towards his pile of chips which was noticeably larger than everyone else's. "Perhaps you should consider cutting yours off, maybe you'll play a little smarter."

With none of the other players raising after Ash, the robot dealer drew the turn, the fourth card in hold'em, while a waitress walked up with a rocks glass filled with whiskey. She placed the drink down next to Ash and grabbed his empty.

"Thank you." Ash said to the waitress, his breath almost as strong as the whiskey he had been served. There were four cards now: A four of spades, nine of hearts, queen of hearts, and an ace of spades. Ash's hand was growing weaker. He folded before the round of betting could even reach him, much to the annoyance of the man across from him.

Ash could certainly understand the satisfaction of scaring people into folding but that doesn't usually result in large profits. To say nothing of the massive losses that could come when one faces someone who doesn't scare so easily. Ash drank from his glass as the current hand finished up with his rival across the table ultimately winning. Overjoyed, the man reached out and pulled in his chips.

It was purely an ego boost for the rich man, and he was certainly rich. Ash could see the man's wealth as clear as day, from his excessive tan resulting in orange skin that was horrifically mismatched with his blue hair, the man was a physical embodiment of the elite class. Frequent access to UV rays was a luxury, hair dye was a privilege, and the rich loved to show it all off without a second's thought about appearances. Never realizing that expensive tastes aren't the same thing as having class. The rest of the players were obviously wealthy as well with their own choice of colorful hair dye, rich tans, and over-designed outfits that seemed downright uncomfortable to wear. Though none were quite as flamboyant about it all as the man sitting opposite was.

But the river flowed both ways. Just as Ash could see the wealth of his competitors, they could all see him as the outsider he was. With his plain dark pants, dark shirt, and dark coat. His dark hair, dark brown eyes, and dark skin. Ash stood apart from his rich rivals just through his very presence. He didn't take the time to properly groom himself for his date with the elites either, sitting there with bags under his eyes, unkempt hair, and strong 5 o'clock shadow growing his dry, cracking skin. Ash didn't get much sleep, he didn't get much of the artificial sunlight, and he was definitely starting to suffer the effects. Though, as he quickly finished yet another glass of whiskey, Ash understood that was only the start of his issues. Not that he was bothered much by any of it, quickly motioning to the waitress to bring him yet another refill.

The blue haired man shook his head. "How does some lowly drunk like you stumble his way into a place like this? What are you, some two-bit con-artist?"

"Well, I'm not." Ash shrugged, "But I know a few."

Most people in Ash's position would want to keep a low profile in Ash's position, especially given the less than legal means he used onto the luxury transport ship. In fact, most people in his position wouldn't use such a high-class means of transportation. But Ash wasn't one for caution. Besides, he relished the opportunity to plant his 'lowly' self among the elite. He certainly wasn't insulted by the contempt they gave him with the way he leaned into it with his disheveled appearance. And he knew that their contempt and suspicion wouldn't turn into any action against him. Reporting him to the authorities would require the elites to view him as something more than an annoyance and, of course, actual effort.

The robot dealer shuffled the deck as it gave the routine instructions for the players to pass the blinds. The big blind was now on Ash, requiring him to make a bet right out of the gate, so it was probably best to wait a bit before folding again...assuming his hand isn't completely worthless. The dealer began dealing out the cards to the respective players. It was still unusual for Ash to play cards with a robot dealer, he was accustomed to playing with human ones in less opulent settings. Not that he was prejudiced against machines, he just questioned how well it could monitor betting and potential cheating. But Ash had to admit, the Union's advancements in A.I were impressive. The robot, while a bit stiff in its movements, kept order pretty well.

The new hand began and Ash's was decent. An ace of clubs and a five of hearts. It was certainly good enough to warrant staying in to see how things play out. The betting started with the players to Ash's right matching his big blind and soon found its way to the blue-haired man, who raised. The betting continued, with one of the other players folding, and soon things were back on Ash. The blue-haired man mocked him. "I take it you will be calling again."

"You know me so well." Ash answered as he threw the chips onto the table, keeping his eyes on his rival. The robot dealer reached up and with its silver arms and straightened up the pile of chips before proceeding to draw the first card. A three of spades. Not really useful to Ash but, apparently, it was more than enough to prompt another raise from the blue-haired man. Two more players folded while Ash just called again.

Then came the second card, eight of diamonds, and there was yet another raise from the man sitting across. Another player folded as the betting went around to Ash who just realized that the blue-haired man had barely looked at his hand since the hand had begun.

"I am curious, how high are you willing to call?" The blue man asked smugly.

Ash couldn't help but be amused by his rich rival. He had gotten his ass kicked throughout the entire game and was only still at the table because his bottomless pockets were able to take the losses. But now, after winning just one round of significance, he was suddenly playing hyper-aggressive. Trying to scare the rest of the table away with his display of wealth and apparent strength. There was only one way for Ash to respond with a big smile on his face. "I will see you...and I will raise you."

Ash tossed in the chips and watched as all the other players folded in response, leaving just the two of them. The bet returned to the blue-haired man who called, prompting a laugh from Ash. "What? Don't have any balls?"

The man didn't respond which just added to Ash's smile as he returned to his drink. Another card was dealt. A ten of hearts. Ash watched as his opponent made the first bet, matching the blind and raising. Ash called and raised.

"Now you want to play." The blue-haired man stated. "You bluffing?"

Ash shrugged. "No more than you. But I am curious, how high are YOU willing to call?"

The robotic dealer motioned to the blue-haired man to make his move and, after a moment of tense silence, he made it. He pushed all of his chips to the center of the table. "I'm all in."

"I call." Ash responded calmly, pushing his chips in to match the bet. Ash will have some chips left if he lost but the rich man certainly won't, at least not without buying more. The robot reached up and neatened the pile before preparing to draw the last two cards of the hand. Both Ash and his terribly tanned rival flipped their cards over to reveal their hands. As he had predicted, Ash's opponent had a slightly weaker hand than his, a jack of spades and a three of diamonds. There were two cards left to draw though. The time for strategy was over, all Ash could do is sit and wait for luck to be on his side.

"Just how lucky do you think you are?" the rival asked eyeing up the disheveled Ash. "Because you don't strike me as particularly lucky."

Ash laughed at that pitiful attempt to demean him. "Really? I'd say someone like me being in a place like this would be considered 'lucky.'"

"Please, you're just a drifter. Conning your way from city to city, gaming the system every step of the way. How do you get away with it?"

"I figured you would've figured it out by now." Ash said referring back to his habit of calling instead of raising. "I don't pick a fight I can't win."

The fourth card was drawn. A jack of spades. Ash's rival now had a pair over him.

"It seems that you can't win this fight."

Ash took a deep breath of nicotine from his vape and responded on the exhale. "Let's save the celebrations for the end, shall we?"

The robot flipped over the final card...an ace of hearts. The win goes to Ash. There is a light applause around the table Ash finished up his current drink in celebration.

"Don't worry." Ash said to his beaten rival. "I'm sure you can afford it."

Ash gathered up his chips and placed them onto a small carry tray to transport. All the while the petty blue man stated under his breath. "Ass."

"No, it's Ash. With an H." Ash corrected. "Common mistake. But I don't know what you're so angry about, you're the one who overplayed his hand."

With his winnings in hand, Ash stood up from the table and went to cash out. The cashout station was nestled in the corner of the casino not far from the long bar that ran through most of the aft side of the deck. Ash went up to one of the small glass windows of the check out station and didn't take for the clerk behind it to notice his gains. "Lucky night?"

"Nope." Ash answered as he slid the tray of chips under the glass. "Just took advantage of someone else's misfortune."

"That's a rather negative way of looking at it."

"Is it?" Ash answered rhetorically before pointing down to the glass of water that was sitting on the clerk's desk. "Your glass is 'half-empty' by the way."

The Clerk laughed as he counted up the chips, it took a bit. "Your total winnings are 12,345 credits. Just enter your card and we can make the transfer."

"Actually, I'd like the winnings in oxygen." Ash stated to the clerk's surprise.

"All of it?"

"Yes. You can do that here, can't you?"

"Of course, it's just most passengers who fly on this ship don't ask for it."

Ash nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure they don't."

"You'll have to pay for the tanks and transport carriers."

"I'm aware, you can take that off the winnings."

The clerk performed the transaction and gave Ash his receipt. The clerk explained that Ash would have to collect the oxygen at the shipyard after they dock and arrange for it to be transferred to his place of residence. Ash said that he understood even though he didn't actually have a place of residence where he was going...or anywhere for that matter. But it was always good to keep a good supply of oxygen on hand because, in the void of outer space, oxygen was more valuable than gold.

With his winnings processed, Ash walked over to the bar. The waitress who had been serving him all throughout the poker game was behind the bar preparing another round of drinks to serve across the casino. She saw Ash coming and simply placed the refill she had prepared for him on the bar. Ash grabbed the glass. "Thanks."

"You done at the table?" The waitress asked.

"Yes, I am." Ash placed his credit card on the bar and went to work on his new drink.

"You seem to enjoy that brand, would you like a bottle to take back to your room?"

Ash couldn't remember exactly what he said in response to that question...which probably meant he said yes. He could see the effects of the night as he was suddenly awakened by the piercing sound of the morning alarm. Ash threw off the sheets and smacked the alarm next to the bed to get it to shut up. The lights, signaled by the alarm, slowly lit up the suite as an automated voice came on over the intercom. "Good morning, Mr. Franklyn. I do hope you enjo-"

"Deactivate!" Ash screamed at the ceiling, forcing the voice to switch off. He sat on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but his dark pants and took a moment to collect himself. He looked over his shoulder to see he had gone to bed alone. That was disappointing, Ash had spent a lot of the night flirting with that lovely waitress and he had hoped it would lead to something. Or maybe it did and she simply rejected him. Though, given his uncertainty, it probably didn't matter either way. At this moment, Ash was actually more concerned about whether or not he had remembered to tip her. Ash got up from the bed, stood for a second, and remarked to himself. "Yeah, I'm sure I did."

Ash walked out to the other side of the luxury suite he was traveling in and entered the kitchen area. It was there that he noticed that he had, in fact, said yes to receiving a bottle of the whiskey he was drinking the previous night and it was now sitting on the kitchen counter. He opened the bottle, grabbed a coffee mug from the counter, and poured a bit into it. He then placed the mug into the coffee maker and stood there with both hands on the counter, trying to wake himself up, as the coffee brewed. Once it was done, Ash grabbed the mug and walked back into the living area of the suite.

It was a nice suite Gallen had gotten from him. About the size of a small apartment, the room had a large bed, a well-stocked kitchen, a large living room with a view, and a really comfy rug to stand on. The rich sure knew how to travel in style. Ash had no idea who 'Mr. Franklyn' was supposed to be, probably an executive of some kind for Gallen to hack his passport on Ash's behalf. Not that Ash cared about the inconvenience he caused Mr. Franklyn by stealing his ticket, he could probably just buy a ticket on the next cruise out. He did pity the poor customer service rep that would have to deal with the inevitable complaint though.

With his spiked coffee in hand, Ash planted himself in the soft recliner chair in the corner of the living room and swiped his hand in front of the black sensor on the wall. Once he did, the shudders on the window began to retract upwards allowing him to enjoy his glorious view that everyone tried so hard to block out. The lights sprawled from one end of the window to the other, the infinite stars of the cosmos and the great red nebula. Ash would say that it was like a painting that wouldn't do it justice. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold, one that Ash never grew tired of looking at. He never grew tired of looking out at the stars, He never came to fear them as everyone else did. He didn't even fear the red cloud even after it was given the name 'Madrelan'. The nebula didn't deserve that name. It wasn't responsible for Rhea.

Another voice came on the intercom to break Ash's concentration. A real voice this time. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. At this moment, there is now only an hour and a half delay on Wakefield's public media service. The beginning of the morning program will be reaching us about now if you would like to view it. We will be commencing our final light-jump in about 2 hours and will begin docking procedures shortly after. Thank you."

Ash sighed and said out loud. "Screen on."

The digital screen built into the wall opposite to Ash switched on and the Wakefield morning news were, of course, discussing 'Rhea Day'. The male anchor was speaking. "Mayor Harland's office gave a statement last night, reminding all of us that all traffic at the shipyard will be heavy before and after Rhea Day. And that the special delegation from Rome will arrive two days from now on Friday."

"I understand that the delegation will be larger than in previous years." The female anchor added. "Because, reportedly, the Chancellor's representative for the Wakefield ceremony will be the Director of Special Operations, Colonel Basileus Ryker."

"Ryker?" Ash said to himself as the newscast continued.

"If these reports are true." The female anchor added. "Colonel Ryker will be addressing the city of Wakefield prior to the Chancellor's Union wide speech on Rhea Day this Sunday."

Ash groaned. The reason he had decided to go to Wakefield was that it would be the best place to lay low during the weekend. Not only did the cyber-underground have no presence there at the moment, but it was typically low on the list of destination spots for VIPs during events like Rhea Day. The plan was for Ash to drink his way through the weekend without the risk of being discovered by Union security forces. It'll be significantly more difficult to do that if Ryker was the VIP going to Wakefield this year. He didn't quite understand why a man of Ryker's rank would be going to a city like Wakefield on Rhea Day. Ash couldn't help but wonder what kind of bet the Colonel had lost to get that assignment. But all of this, of course, means extra security for Ash to be mindful.

The two anchors carried on with their discussion on Rhea Day and everything that was happening on Wakefield over the course of the weekend which prompted Ash to say. "Screen off."

Ash sat back into the recliner and drank from his mug. He looked around the suite again and couldn't help but be impressed with Gallen's work, even if it was incomplete...

"So, the boarding pass is all set then?" Ash had asked Gallen before leaving the city of Columbia on the cruise ship.

"Oh, ye of little faith." The hacker answered. "I could get that for you in my sleep, if I slept. It was a cute side project while I focused on my hack of the news feed."

"Who hired you for that job?" Ash asked immediately regretting the question.

"No job, it's just fun. Imagine it, those empty suits are on the screen discussing the state of the ducks in the artificial pond-"

"Have you ever actually watched the news?"

"-and suddenly, BAM, porn my friend. Just hot, disgusting porn for the whole city to witness. I'm talking boobs, whips, and wildly inappropriate hairstyles. Oh, the horror."

"Well, that'll teach them...something I'm sure." Ash said dryly. He knew it was best not to question or engage with that statement. Ash knew Gallen Cayne well enough to know that to do so would send him down a rabbit hole of depravity from which there was no easy escape. Instead, Ash pressed on with his questions. "How about the false irises and synthetic fingerprints?"

"Oh." Gallen paused. "Well, I was going to get those from you but then I don't really want to spoil you. Plus, I have all the other important hacks to do."

Ash sighed. "So you forgot, wonder-boy. How the hell am I supposed to get through Customs?"

"You're resourceful, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

...And figure it out he did, whether or not it would actually work was Ash's main concern at the moment. It took all the connections he had to get off Columbia but he'll have to be clever to get through customs on Wakefield. A city he had only been to a few times before. After the ship had made its final light-jump and went through the lengthy docking procedure that was downright torturous on the eve of Rhea Day weekend, Ash would soon see just how clever he is.

Once the ship was docked, Ash made his way down the boarding tunnel out of the ship and soon found himself in one of the many receiving areas of the Wakefield Shipyard. It was crowded, lots of people traveling during Rhea Day weekend, but Ash was a natural of navigating through such traffic. Out of the windows of the shipyard, he could see all of the other starships navigating around each other to dock with the hundreds of tunnels that stretched out from the enclosed platforms of the shipyard. He could also see the smaller maintenance ships making repairs. And all of this was just one section of the shipyard, working here must've been a logistical nightmare.

Ash worked his way through the crowd, his travel bag in hand, and soon found himself at customs. He walked across the area, examining the various lines as he did. Or, at least, that's what he wanted the Union security officers to think he was doing. What he was actually doing was examining the security cameras at each customs station until he got a lucky break. He saw a line with a camera that had no red light. Wakefield was an old city, there was always something broken. The next question was the customs officer himself.

The line was as long and moved as fast as one could expect during Rhea Day weekend but Ash stood patiently as he slowly made his way up. He didn't look at the security officers, he didn't look at any of the other people in line, and he certainly didn't keep looking up to confirm that the camera was broken. He just stood in line with his large travel bag in hand. And, before too long, Ash found himself at the customs desk. He placed the bag on the conveyor to be x-rays, there was nothing in there that he needed to be concerned about. He didn't travel with weapons, they were easy to obtain when the situation required it.

Ash handed his hacked boarding pass to the customs officer who inserted the plastic pass into his computer and asked. "Are you here for business or pleasure, Mr. Franklyn."

"Neither." Ash answered. "I have no business and what pleasure is there to have on a weekend like this?"

"I'll just put down pleasure."

Ash examined the customs officer who typed on his keyboard without making much eye contact. The man seemed reasonably put together at first glance but didn't take Ash long to spot the slight tears in the seams of his uniform. His skin was pale and beginning to crack, not enough exposure to the artificial UV lights. Plus he was thin, very thin. This man may not be from the Wakefield sewers but he wasn't far up from them. The Customs officer made a decent living but it apparently wasn't enough to cover whatever debts he had built up in his thirty-plus years. He was struggling to pay for food and vitamin D pills, probably because he was spending what spare money he had on maintaining his oxygen supply.

"Alright, Mr. Franklyn." The customs officer said, still not making eye contact. "If you could provide your handprint and retinal scan with the scanners in front of you."

Ash didn't do that. "Oh, I had a pretty good run at hold'em and won a fair amount of oxygen for myself."

"Yes, that's on here. You can collect it at warehouse 3. You'll have to pay to have it transported to wherever you're staying. You can't keep it here."

"Well, shit. That sounds expensive."

The customs officer sighed, still making no eye contact. "Well, you could pay for it with some of the oxygen itself."

"I could." Ash conceded. "But, then again, I have nowhere to put it all. I don't suppose you could help me out with that."

At that moment, someone from behind Ash yelled. "Can we get a move on please!?"

The Customs officer grew impatient, "I can't help you with your oxygen storage. Please scan your-"

"You really don't have any need for oxygen." Ash stated bluntly, prompting the customs officer to finally make eye contact. Ash made a casual glance behind the officer. "The security camera seems to be out. You might want to inform security about that."

The officer turned to take a quick look as Ash continued. "Oh, I will certainly do the scan for you. I apologize."

Ash put his right hand just above the scanner and kept his eyes closed as he leaned down to the retina scanner. After that, he straightened back up and asked. "You get it."

The customs officer's eyes darted around a bit as he thought it over to himself. After a few seconds, he typed a few things into his keyboard and answered. "Yes, everything seems to be in order. Welcome to Wakefield, Mr. Franklyn."

"Thank You." Ash grabbed his bag and went about his business.


	2. The Factory

The noise was as deafening as it was diverse. The sound of metal gears turning, saws cutting, mechanical arms squealing, and metal scrap crashing to the floor with a heavy thud. The Wakefield factory was a never ending symphony of loud, unsynchronized instruments pounding away without any sense of rhythm. Even with earmuffs, working on the factory floor was only barely tolerable. It had long been rumored that the factory could get so loud workers could actually get concussed from the soundwaves alone. Though in the two years she had been there, Mara had never actually seen that happen to anyone.

Silly legends aside, the Wakefield Factory was nonetheless an unpleasant working environment. In addition to all the noise, the heat in the facility was unbearable. Between the constant movement and the exhaust from all the heavy machinery, Mara was dripping sweat throughout her entire shift. The Factory was largely automated with massive pieces of metal traveling down the wide conveyors to be worked on and cut by various mechanical arms. By the end of the assembly line, they had been shaped into the hull plating for the spacecraft that were constructed at the shipyard.

The process was messy, resulting in large chunks of scrap metal dropping to the floor beneath the conveyor system. Mara's job was to collect that scrap so that it can be melted down and recycled for other projects in the factory. The runner, as the position was called, was a bottom level position. So much so that it wasn't even handled by actual employees. The job was handled by temps like Mara, though she could certainly see why none of the full time employees wanted to do it.

Much of the scrap metal was as large as Mara herself and Mara was not a short girl, she actually stood a bit taller than a lot of the guys in the facility. She would crawl under the conveyors and drag the scrap out with gloved hands along with whatever partner she had been assigned with that day, hoping that bits of scrap wouldn't fall right on top of them. They would then load up the scrap into large wheeled containers called 'boats'. The boat wasn't that heavy on its own while it was empty but, by the time they had completed just one loop around the factory floor, it had required the combined strength of Mara and her partner to move.

Once the boat was full, it was time to take the scrap to the recycling center tucked away in the corner of the facility. The benefit of this is that, once there, Mara could remove her hardhat and earmuffs. In the heat of the Wakefield factory, the relief of allowing her head to breathe never got old for Mara. After handing the boat over to the recycling engineers, Mara and Jose, the man she had been paired with on this shift, walked over to the water fountain. They took turns getting a drink and splashing cold water on their faces. More sweet relief.

"Another hard day at the office?" One of the recycling engineers remarked as he helped load the boat into an automated machine that would carry it to the forge. That question did get old for Mara seeing how often she heard it but, thankfully, she didn't have to answer it this time.

"Yeah, just another day." Jose answered.

Mara splashed some more water on her face while Jose went ahead and grabbed an empty boat so they could start all over again. And, with a sigh, Mara put her hardhat and earmuffs back on and joined Jose to go back out to the factory floor.

It was a simple routine they went through, grabbing an empty boat and making the round across the factory floor. The first few stops on the lap had relatively small pieces of scrap, so only one person needed to crawl down and collect them. Jose looked at Mara and signed. 'I go first.'

'I go second.' Mara signed back. They had to use sign language to communicate on the factory floor to communicate, it was so loud. 'We trade places like before.'

This was only the second time Mara had worked with Jose and she needed to make sure he followed the right procedure. The first time she had worked with him, he had tried to show off by doing most of the work and was falling over from exhaustion by the end of the shift. He learned the hard way that it was best to keep a balanced pace on the factory floor.

Jose signed back, confirming that he understood, and crawled under the conveyors. As Mara waited, some of the full-time employees walked by. They looked down on temps, often calling them a variety of derogatory names behind their backs. With Mara, they had only one name and they were more than happy to say it right to her face.

"Traitor's Blood!"

They would say it loudly to ensure that Mara could hear them over the noise. She didn't give them any reaction to them as they threw a few more insults at her.

Jose reemerged from the conveyors and shot the full-timers a look while tossing some scrap into the boat. The full-timers just laughed and marched off. Jose signed to Mara. 'You ok?'

"I am fine." Mara signed back and the two of them carried on with their day,

Mara went under at the next stop. She collected the scrap while the conveyors squealed above her. The pieces were smaller than the ones she would be grabbing later down the route, but they were sharp and still needed to be handled with care even with thick gloves. Mara also had to be mindful of other pieces falling down on her which was always a risk. But she had gotten good at protecting herself in what was simply a very dangerous and hostile working environment. With her turn done, the two of them moved on.

At the third stop, Jose went back down while Mara rested her arms on the edge of the boat. She looked around the massive factory as she waited for Jose to return. The hull plates that were being constructed were so massive and, even at the slow pace of the conveyor, a good number traveled down the conveyors every day. At the annual meeting held at the beginning of the year, it was announced that the factory had produced enough components to build 4 new ships in addition to the repairs made on the existing ships the previous year.

It was hard to believe that all that time and effort only produced 4 new vessels, down from the 6 ships constructed the year before that. The executive manager of the factory was quick to point out to everyone that the reduced number was the result of the larger ship designs put out by Union High-Command. The ships were all military, of course, mostly frigates and cruisers. No fighters though. There were fighters stationed at Wakefield but they weren't built here. Mara wasn't sure which city was responsible for those but then, she didn't really care.

At 24, Mara was just old enough to remember that Wakefield didn't construct military vessels at all. Some of the cities were known for supporting the then limited military force, but Wakefield was known for its line of luxury liners for civilian cruises around ringed planets and beautiful gas giants. There were annual events around the reveal of the ships, contests to see which famous engineer would design it and which architect would handle the interior. It was Wakefield's holiday season.  
Nowadays, the main question was how much bigger the guns were. Those were assembled in a different sector of the Wakefield factory. Mara worked that line on occasion but she didn't enjoy the sight of it. At least on the hull line she could pretend shipbuilding was still about the art and beauty. It did get slightly harder for Mara to do that however each and every day she worked on the floor. And, with Rhea Day coming up, it was virtually impossible to view shipbuilding as anything but what it actually was.

Mara shook her head at the thought and then it suddenly dawned on her...Jose had been under the conveyor system for too long. She stepped away from the empty boat and knelt down to see Jose struggling to crawl his way back. Something was clearly wrong. Mara frantically scurried under the conveyors towards him and quickly began to see the blood spilling from his neck. A sharp piece of scrap had fallen from the conveyor line above and sliced him. If he had screamed, it would've been impossible for anyone to hear him. Mara dragged him, trying to reassure him that she would help him but her voice couldn't beat the machines.

Jose's eyes were already starting to grow dim as Mara made sure he was applying enough pressure to his neck. She sprinted over to the red emergency button nearby, pressed it, and ran straight back to him. She quickly signed. 'Help is coming.'

Jose barely registered a response before losing consciousness, Mara pressed down on the side of his neck. The floor managers rushed over with others...too late. Jose was already dead.


	3. Long Way Home

Mara sat in the front office, her trembling hands still soaked with blood, waiting for one of the managers to finally speak to her. One of them, the shift leader, finally hung up the phone he was speaking into and turned his attention to Mara. "So, what happened."

"We decided to take turns on the early stops like we always do." Mara explained. "He went down first and didn't come back up...I waited too long to check on him."

"It wasn't your fault." The manager stated in an attempt to calm her but his tone was strikingly unemotional. "These things happen. Just get yourself cleaned up and go home. Feel free to stay home tomorrow, you only have a half shift anyway."

Mara was bewildered by the shift leader. Of course, it was her fault. A human being was dead because she didn't react fast enough and the shift leader spoke of it like it was just another broken machine. She didn't know what to say but she knew she couldn't take a day off work. "No, I can still work."

"Alright." The shift leader looked at her blood-soaked sleeves. "You can leave the uniform here, we'll have a new set ready for you ready when you work tomorrow. Same shift?"

"First shift." Mara corrected, her hands still shaking.

"Ok. I'll let the shift leader know." He returned to his desk. That seemed to be the end of the conversation. So, Mara stood up and left the office.

She went straight to the ladies' locker room and started to take off her uniform. She frantically unbuttoned her blood-soaked work shirt and proceeded to remove pants which were a tad more difficult. She pushed them down her thighs and worked them up and over the mechanical joint at her knee.

Today was not the first time Mara dealt with the dangers of factory work. About six months after being hired, a large piece of scrap had crushed her right leg. She quickly passed out from the pain and, by the time she came to, the bottom half of the leg was gone. Shortly after she had been outfitted with a robotic prosthetic. It was paid for by the factory seeing how the accident happened on their watch. Though technically, the factory was owned by the city of Wakefield so they paid for it. The only act of decency the city ever showed her.

Mara placed her thumb on a sensor right above the knee joint, triggering a mechanism between it and the stud of her real leg to spin and detach the prosthetic. It wasn't really good to shower with. She placed the prosthetic leg into her locker and got herself over to one of the showers stalls. She got used to walking with a robotic leg but hopping around with only one leg was always a chore for Mara. Not that she was all that aware of what she was even doing at the moment.

She operated mostly on muscle memory as she grabbed one of the towels and stepped into the shower stall. Mara was still in shock, she switched on the hot water without even taking off her bra and underwear and just stood there. Images of Jose bleeding out below her flashed through her head while the scalding hot water fell down on her. Mara wasn't sure how long she stood there with her hands clenching the metal rails at the sides of the stall with steam building up around her. All the while, images of Jose bleeding out below her kept flashing in her mind and, in a sudden panic, she quickly grabbed the soap and scrubbed away the blood. Mara had heard of people dying in the factory before but this was the first time she had witnessed it.

Once the blood was off her, Mara turned the shower off and proceeded to dry herself off. Her hands were still shaking, she wrapped the towel around her and hobbled her way back to the locker. A couple of the other temps asked Mara if she was ok while reattaching her prosthetic and got dressed. She insisted that she would be eventually.

After she got her jeans over the prosthetic and threw on her shirt and old jacket with tears in its seams, Mara reached into her locker and pulled out her oxygen bag. A large carry bag that held a heavy oxygen tank and other items, Mara strained to sling it over her shoulder and proceeded to leave the locker room and head over to the pay station near the front of the factory. It was payday after all.

Mara swiped her ID-card at the pay station computer and watched as it tallied up her hours and pay. She worked a lot over the past week but, as a temp, it was at a significantly lower rate then full-time employees, and Mara was certain that they didn't have to worry about the kind of choice she was about to make. Once the computer was done calculating her pay, Mara had to decide whether to receive the payment in the form of credits or oxygen.

The factory was owned by the city of Wakefield, the city was a part of the United-Sectors, and oxygen, like electricity and water, was a heavily regulated resource. Since the Death of Earth, humanity had struggled to maintain its oxygen supply and The Union had to take steps to control the crisis. The air was now owned by the state. Even so, most people probably didn't need to sacrifice most of their pay for air, but Mara wasn't most people.

She selected oxygen on the screen and the computer did a quick calculation. The price of oxygen had gone up again, the price of oxygen always went up. But Mara didn't really have any other choice, she had to plug her oxygen tank in and selected to fill the tank up which used up almost the entirety of her paycheck. With a sigh, Mara unplugged the tank, swiped her credit chip to collect the remaining credits and left the factory.

Mara cleared the noise of the factory facility and made her way into the central-station of the city of Wakefield. It was here that Mara was confronted with a different sort of noise. The rumble of the crowd, thousands traveling to various destinations throughout the city. And then there were all the obnoxious screens that literally ran all along the walls and around every corner, blazing whatever entertainment was currently trendy. People who live and work in the central-station could apparently filter out what content they weren't interested in and focus on what gave them a mild distraction from their daily routine. Mara didn't understand how anyone could do that though. Traveling home through the central-station was like fighting through persistent static.

Already exhausted, Mara fought her way through the crowd with her heavy oxygen tank in tow. She knew the route to the transit-terminal like the back of her hand and she knew that she needed to be quick about getting there. Not a lot of transit-cars traveled to where she lived and the one she was rushing to grab was the last one of the day.

She pushed and shoved and, at last, she was there. She ran up the stairs to the terminal, took a quick glance at the schedule to confirm that she wasn't late, and bolted to the ticket kiosk. It was automated like most things in Wakefield and, also like most things in Wakefield, it was glitchy as hell. But, thankfully, it didn't take too many tries for Mara to get her ticket. After that, it was to the security desk to have her bag checked by Union-Security. It was tight but she made it.

Mara got onto the loading platform, breathing heavily from exhaustion, just as the transit-car pulled up. Hanging from the electric tracks, the transit-car came to a full stop at the loading platform and opened its doors for passengers. Mara scanned her ticket at the door as she walked in and quickly found herself a window seat near the rear of the car. Transit-Cars were long, capable of carrying a few hundred people at a time and were, naturally, completely automated. If Mara had shown up a few seconds late there would've been no driver to wait for her like they did when her parents were still young.

It wasn't a very full car. Only a few dozen more people loaded in as dozens of others stepped off. Mara was thankful for this because it meant that she could place the bag with her oxygen tank down on the seat next to her. There really wasn't enough room for it on the floor between her and the seat in front of her. Her entire body was sore from work but her shoulder was particularly thankful to not have the tank strapped on it. Mara took a deep breath and leaned back into the cushion of her seat. It would be a few stops before she needed to get off the car, she could afford a quick nap.

As soon as she closed her eyes, all she could see was Jose bleeding to death beneath her. His eyes fading away. Her heart started pounding in her chest. The shock and the trauma were quickly beginning to settle back in. Mara took a long, slow breath to try to regain control of herself…

"Good Evening, Wakefield!"

Mara jumped in her seat as the news broadcast continued on in front of her. "I'm Steven Lewiston of 'Wakefield Tonight' here with the news of the hour. Our top story tonight, as you all know, is the upcoming Rhea Day ceremony this Sunday. We have updates about the inbound delegation from Rome led by Colonel Basileus Ryker as well as the mayor's planned visit to the Memorial wall tomorrow. A visit that, surprisingly, will take place a day before the Colonel's arrival on Saturday."

It was always so easy to forget that every seat in transit-cars had their own personal media feed attached to the back of the seat in front of them. They would always switch off automatically when the passenger got up and then turn back on after leaving a terminal when it senses that someone was sitting in the seat. This also meant that the feed for the seat with the oxygen tank was on, Mara quickly reached over and switched that one off by waving her hand in front of its sensor. She then leaned back into her chair as the news broadcast carried on.

"To explain these developments is Wakefield news correspondent, David Williams." The anchor, Steven Lewiston, explained as the broadcast went into a split-screen with the correspondent on the right side. "David, this is unusual, isn't it? Doesn't the Mayor and the Chancellor's delegate usually go to the memorial wall together prior to Rhea Day?"

"Well, the delegation is usually here by now." David answered. "But my sources have informed me that Ryker plans to visit Memorial Wall in Central Park on the morning of the Ceremony."

"Why is the delegation running late? Original reports had it coming today, and then that was changed to tomorrow, and now Saturday."

"The reason for that would be the last-minute decision to have Ryker as the Chancellor's representative. But we are now certain that the delegation will arrive Saturday afternoon and that Ryker will be able to attend the Gala being held in the Upper-Station that evening."

"What's the story behind Ryker being the representative?" The anchor asked. "As Director of Special-Operations, Ryker has always spent Rhea Day in Rome with Chancellor Sinclair. Why the sudden change?"

"I don't have an answer to that question. Up until a few days ago, it was the understanding of just about everyone that Ryker would be in Rome at the Chancellor's side, just as he had done since his appointment to Special Operations 10 years ago. News of the change didn't reach Wakefield until the delegation had already disembarked."

"Ryker has always been one of the Chancellor's top advisors. Has something changed? Has the Colonel fallen out of favor?"

"That's the real question, Steven. But news travels slowly from city to city and the answer hasn't gotten here yet. The last report I saw said that Rome was buzzing with rumors. But it's only rumors at-"

Mara switched off the news feed with a scoff. The anniversary of the greatest tragedy since the death of Earth is a few days away and Wakefield's finest journalists were using it as a platform to discuss court intrigue. Mara thought about how sickened her parents would've been by it. Though, if her parents were still alive, it probably wouldn't be happening at all. As two of Wakefield's most famous journalists at the time, they held themselves to higher standards. Standards some people didn't like...but that was a long time ago.

Unable to sleep and having nothing else to do, Mara just looked at the window as the transit-car carried her across the central-station. The largest of the three unofficial sections of the city-station, central-station housed the majority of Wakefield's citizens. It was a labyrinth of platforms, tunnels, transit-lines, and tall buildings that ran vertically from the top of lower-station all the way up to the bottom of the upper-station. The buildings, in addition to housing citizens, acted as the support structure for the city-station as a whole. The platforms and tunnels house stores, gaming centers, and sports arenas. And between them, all were various domes that house city parks where people could experience 'life before Earth was lost'. That was the tagline anyway though, from the pictures she had seen, Mara figured life on Earth was much more beautiful than any of the Wakefield parks.

As the transit-car continued its route, Mara looked up to get a glimpse of the affluent upper-station, the home of the Wakefield government, and its wealthiest citizens. Mara had never been up there and probably never will as the transit-car carried here lower and lower into the central-station.   
Before long, the upper-station was completely out of sight.

With each stop, the transit-car grew more and more empty. By the time it had arrived at her stop, Mara was one of only a small handful of people left. The automated PA system announced the name of the terminal, confirming that they had arrived at her stop. The doors opened and Mara forced herself out of her seat. After being able to rest in the seat after a day in the factory, standing back up was difficult. And picking up the oxygen tank was downright painful. But she powered through it and stepped off the transit-car.

The terminal in this part of Wakefield was much more run-down than most. Half of the media-screens were either broadcasting broken up transmissions, static, or were simply broken down, and there were significantly fewer people...much less noise. Mara couldn't have been more relieved, no matter how many times she made the long journey home.

Not that there weren't any people on the terminal at all. A woman was standing by the stairway handing out flyers while saying, "The Earth is dead but the Goddess is not."

The woman extended a flyer to Mara who shook her head. "I'm not a witch."

"You don't need to be." The woman replied as Mara took the flyer. "It's just a meeting where we meditate and share positive energy with ourselves and the Goddess. We're all that's left of her garden, all that's left of her. We need to keep our spirits strong for her or she'll die with us."

"I'll think about it."

"If no harm done, do what you will." The woman said with a smile as the two parted ways.

Mara left the transit-terminal and continued downwards. Staircase after staircase, elevator after elevator, things grew quieter as Mara approached the lower-station of Wakefield. She soon arrived at the maintenance shaft she had used at the start of the day to leave the lower-section. The city was a giant space-station, everything about it was artificial, so there had to be various maintenance shafts and tunnels burrowed throughout the infrastructure to accommodate repairs of any large scale malfunctions.

These shafts and tunnels were now the only way to get down to the lower-section of Wakefield. Most of the elevators, stairways, and transit-lines have long been sealed off. Only a few emergency elevators were left operational, all of which required special access cards only members of the Wakefield construction department possessed. But that didn't stop people like Mara from living down there...even if they didn't really want to. But it was the only place that didn't cost money to live in. Money she didn't have.

Mara set her bag down and opened it up. She attached a hose to the oxygen tank, a hose that had a mask on the other end. She put on the mask and twisted the valve on the tank, giving her the ability to breathe in the lower-station. She picked the bag back up, opened up the maintenance shaft, and made her way down. All the maintenance shafts and tunnels were manually operated, the only manually operated things left in Wakefield. It was impossible to have them be automated or, in any way, controlled by computers, otherwise, they would be susceptible to system-wide malfunctions.  
It took a while to climb down to the 'Sewers of Wakefield' as people took to calling them. 'Sewer' was a fair description for the lower-station even if it wasn't originally meant to be seen as that. Sure, the lower-section was the home of the water-recycler, energy cores, waste disposal, and the central life-support system. Everything that the city of Wakefield needed to function. But there were also apartment complexes and store centers as well.

The lower-station was meant to house the people who operated all the essential Wakefield machinery just as the upper-station was designed to house the government. This was the case with all city-stations apparently, the brain that controls everything is at the top and the feet that make everything moves are at the bottom. A simple, albeit inherently human way of designing large structures like a mobile city. But then the 'Oxygen Crisis' began.

When the Union government started having difficulty maintaining oxygen levels, all the cities started taking more and more radical steps to conserve the vital resource. First, came the decision to enclose all the public areas and bridges between buildings. Creating bubbles within the bubble to allow the majority of space inside of the City-Station to fill up with Co-2. Then came the population controls, originally it was a maximum of three children per family, then two, and now they're talking to lowering to just one child per family. And finally, the decision was made to deactivate the life-support in the lower-station one level at a time. Even the people who operated the essential systems in the lower-section need oxygen masks to travel down and conduct any necessary maintenance. Dozens of levels have now been left abandoned.

It was certainly a surreal experience to walk around the empty corridors as Mara did every single day, twice a day. After climbing down the maintenance shaft, she walked through the darkness clenching her oxygen tank with one hand and a metal pipe that she had stashed in the maintenance shaft with the other. There were plenty of people in the sewers who would kill for a full tank of oxygen. She moved carefully through the dark corridors, past all the abandoned stores, deactivated media feeds, and inactive transit-terminals, with nothing but the emergency lights to provide illumination...which wasn't much.

The windows meant to enclose all the platforms were broken out, the stores had long been ransacked, and, on occasion, Mara would find the bodies of those whose tanks ran out on them. Succumbing to Co-2 poisoning, their tanks were always gone by the time Mara had spotted the bodies.

Every now and again, Mara would look out one of the broken out windows. Above she could see the light of the Central-Station, but below she saw only darkness. It was like being at the observatory, looking out at the stars, only, instead of stars, she saw the faint glimmer of security lights. Although, some of the lights down below were moving in the blackness. Sewer Gangs. Loners like Mara would never call attention to themselves by using their own lights while moving around the lower-section.  
One of the sewer gangs was on a nearby platform but they were in the opposite direction of Mara's apartment and they seemed to be moving away. It was a mild comfort to Mara who tightened her grip on the metal pipe. She walked down the bridge towards the tower where her apartment resided. A few people were squatting in this building, Mara could hear them walking around in the floors above and beneath her, but she never spoke to them and they never spoke to her. When it came to living in the Wakefield Sewers it was best to keep a low profile.

Mara was always careful to make sure no one was around when she got to her door. She checked around the corners on both ends of the hallway, she was clear. She set the bag with her oxygen tank down on the ground, pulled a small black box from it, and then opened up a panel on the wall next to her door. The black box was a portable battery, it cost a lot but it was worth the expense. Mara gently tugged out a couple of wires from the wall and connected them to the battery, activated the apartment's security system. The electronic handprint next to the door lit up and Mara quickly placed her hand on it to unlock the apartment.

She had a member of the cyber-underground reprogram the security system of the apartment for her a while back. That was another major expense, Mara practically starved for the next two weeks after that but she couldn't just sleep in one of the ransacked stores. Her oxygen mask could fall off while she slept, or worse, one of the sewer gangs could stumble upon her. Nonetheless, it was an expense she would prefer not to make again and, in fact, couldn't make again in the near future. The cyber-underground had since been driven out of Wakefield and it would be a while before they regained their foothold.

The door accepted her handprint and slid open with a quick whish. Mara quickly grabbed her stuff together, closed the wall panel, and went inside, closing the door back up behind her. She then opened up another panel and disconnected the security system from the primary computer processor to prevent others from entering the apartment while she slept. Of course, they could always just cut through the door but that would require battery power that most people wouldn't be willing to use.

Mara was finally home but her work wasn't quite finished yet. She hauled the oxygen tank over to the apartment's localized life-support system located on the wall opposite to the door. She had left the panel for it open, exposing it's four empty slots for oxygen tanks. Mara placed her bag down, pulled out her screwdriver, and went to work on the floor. She had hidden the other three tanks beneath the floor panels in the event someone decided to investigate the abandoned apartment while she wasn't around. Working through the full-body soreness, Mara reinstalled all four oxygen tanks, including the one in her bag that was connected to her mask, and switched on the life support. Each individual life-support system ran on the same power system as the emergency lights and the union never took the time to disconnect all of them in every apartment after they all became abandoned as the price of oxygen continued to rise.

She held her breath as the system cycled out whatever Co2 had come into the apartment from leaving and coming back and fresh oxygen came in. And, finally, she took off her mask and took a deep breath. At long last, she was home. Mara slumped down with her back against the wall next to the life-support. Every muscle in her body was throbbing in pain, Mara could have passed out then and there.

"Get back up." Mara said out loud to herself, "Get back up!"

Mara willed herself back to her feet and walked over to the kitchen. The abandoned apartment was decent in size, it was probably built for two. A small living room, kitchen, bathroom, and a small bedroom. Whoever used to live here was low on the income chain though, not as low as Mara was now. There was no built-in carpet or even wood floor, from one end of the apartment to the next it was just the cold plastic material that lined the walls of the city's various corridors. It was hard and very uncomfortable to stand on. There was no furniture left but it was a place to call home.

Mara opened up one of the cupboards to take out a small bag of noodles, her dinner for the evening, and one of the small water bottles she had in there. The water to the apartment had long been shut down. She opened up the bag and dumped the raw noodles with the water into a small boiler on the counter. Mara then connected the boiler to her portable battery and waited while the noodles cooked. It was only now that Mara was realizing just how hungry she was and that the 'meal' she was now preparing was going to do very little to help.

Once her 'dinner' was ready, Mara disconnected the boiler from the battery and twisted off the bowl from the base that contained the heater. She quickly grabbed a fork and carried the bowl of noodles and the battery into her bedroom. Though, 'bedroom' was probably not a good descriptor as there was no bed. Instead, there was a large pile of various blankets that Mara slept on every night. She placed the bowl on noodles on the ground next to the blankets and went over to the emergency lights in the upper corner of the bedroom. She opened up the panel and disconnected the lights from the station's power. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness but then she connected her battery to the station's emergency power to charge it up.

Mara then grabbed her pajamas from the pile of clothes that she had resting next to the blankets and began to change. After taking off her shirt, Mara noticed several strains of brown hair on her hand. At age 24, she was losing even more of her long hair. She still had plenty left but it was still demoralizing. She then checked the shoulder where the strap of her oxygen bag rested the whole way home. Even in the dark, there was a noticeable mark left by the weight with the skin cracking around it. Living in the Wakefield Sewers away from the artificial light had made Mara sickly, an issue exasperated by the harsh work and schedule.

But there was nothing Mara could do about that, she continued getting changed. It was while she took off her pants that she remembered the flyer that the woman had given her. She had folded it up and stuck it into her back pocket. She pulled it out and unfolded it. It was a flyer promoting 'The Children of Gaia', featuring an image of the Earth at the center of a Pentagram and the address of their place of meditation. Gaia was the Goddess of the Earth and the Children of Gaia believe that she has suffered along with humanity since the death of Earth and most of her creatures. So they strive to strengthen themselves and the Goddess by sharing and promoting positive energy. A nice sentiment, but Mara had no positive energy to share.

Mara tossed the flyer aside, took off her pants and robotic leg, and finished getting into her pajamas. She then sat down, ate her noodles, and mentally prepared herself for the next day.


	4. The Tinkerer

It was a delicate process, too much pressure and the thin screws could break. Denys had to move slowly with the tiny screwdriver because he didn't have any spares. 'Why didn't I grab spares?' Denys thought to himself before answering out loud. "Because I'm an idiot. That's why."

Denys turned the driver carefully, scrap screws were rusted and easy to strip, but he was sure he got it. He was sure everything was good. Denys looked at the contraption he had constructed and mounted onto the wall paneling of his bedroom. 'Contraption'. That's what Denys' father called it anyway but that's not how he looked at it. To Denys, it was a fun little project, something new to build though his father probably wouldn't call it 'new'. Denys made sure everything was secure before he opened the valve on the pipe connected to the mount. Denys had removed a panel from the wall to gain access to the waterline and split his own line off of it. Nearly electrocuted himself in the process. Now that was a lecture waiting to happen...probably best not to mention that to anyone.

The pipe trembled slightly as the water went down and, to Denys' delight, the rusty screws held their own as the sprinklers began to twitch under the falling liquid. He had done it, Denys had built a hanging garden in his bedroom to call his own. Not that he needed a hanging garden, he never cared much for plants. He didn't even have any seeds in the soil that was now being watered, but Denys had seen an ad for hanging gardens on his way to school and wondered if he could one. Turns out he can. And he did it all with recycled parts, right down to the rusted nails he dug out of old ships at the shipyard. Took a long time to find the right number of screws in the right size. That part always bothered people.

"Why not buy new screws?" They would ask him. "They're really cheap."

"That would make it easy." Denys would answer. "Easy isn't as much fun."

A collective sigh would then fall upon the table and the rest of breakfast would then be spent in awkward silence.

"Denys!" His father yelled from downstairs as if on cue. "Get down here and eat! You're running late!"

Looking at the clock, Denys saw that he had tinkered a little too long. He turned off the water and quickly got himself dressed which was, in itself, a bit of a chore. Denys's room was wall to wall scrap. Various tools and other materials that he accumulated from the salvage docks from the Wakefield Shipyard and Factory were littered all over the floor of what his father had come to call the 'Harcrow Trash Heap.' Denys didn't have much need for most of the materials yet but he could need them in the future so he felt it was best to collect them.

"Denys!" His father yelled again from downstairs.

"I'm coming!" Denys finally screamed back quickly getting himself dressed into his school uniform and a different set of clothes into his backpack. Denys locked the door to his room behind him as he ran down to the kitchen where his family was already at the end of their morning breakfast.

Denys' father, Elliot Harcrow, looked at him and coldly stated. "You're eggs are cold."

"I'm not hungry."

His father scoffed. "Well, they're already cooked so you best eat them."

Denys didn't argue, he knew that he couldn't, she simply sat down and started eating the eggs while his older brother, Frank, saw fit to simply change the subject. "So, everything is ready for Rhea Day then?"

"Yes." Their father answered. "It was a particular pain in the ass in the year, but we got it done."

Elliot Harcrow was deputy-chief of the Wakefield Shipyard and was heavily involved in the preparations for the increased traffic as well as the Chancellor's Delegation. Denys wasn't really interested in any of that, he just ate his eggs while they continued the conversation.

"I heard we had to make extra room for the delegation." Frank said.

"Yeah. they added four ships."

"Four!" Frank stated in disbelief. "Since when does the delegation need more than one ship? never mind five?"

"Since they decided to have the Director of Special Operations in that delegation."

Denys rolled his eyes. That was all anyone in the city was talking about anymore. Basileus Ryker. Ryker, Ryker, Ryker. Denys would be surprised if anyone in Wakefield knew the guy's name before finding out such an 'esteemed' man was going to grace them with his presence. Now, everyone was his biggest fan.

"What did Ryker do to get sent out here?" Frank asked.

Their father shrugged his shoulders. "Something trivial I'm sure. Nothing a bit of ass-kissing won't fix. Ryker has been a personal favorite of the Chancellor for ten years, that's not going to change no matter what the talking heads on the screens say."

"Y-Yeah." Denys stammered, attempting to be a part of the conversation. "Those talking heads are idiots."

"They're not idiots." His father quickly shot down. "They're just wrong. You don't have to be an idiot to be wrong. And there's no need to be disrespectful."

"Sorry." Denys shut back up in a hurry. He didn't know why he bothered, Denys may have inherited his father's red hair and stocky build but those are where the similarities end. Elliot Harcrow was an administrator and a climber. When he came of age, Elliot Harcrow had inherited his own father's status as a lower-level engineer on the Shipyard and now he was deputy-chief. It was the duty of each new generation to take the family further up the Wakefield ladder. After the Death of Earth and the great exodus, the Harcrows were temps on the floor of the Wakefield Factory and now they were right at the doorsteps of elites.

Elliot had secured a decent-sized home in the upper levels of Central-Station. It had two floors, multiple bedrooms, a large living area, and a high tech kitchen. There were several screens for entertainment, though Denys had taken his apart for parts, and even some carpeting. Outside of the Upper-Station, this was as good a home as anyone could hope to get.

But as he sat there with his red hair now completely grey, Elliot Harcrow knew that he had taken the family as high as he could. It was up to his sons to take the family the rest of the way up. Or, at least, it was his firstborn son's duty. Denys' older brother had taken after their mother with his black hair and leaner physique, he had no resemblance to their father. Something that Denys was incredibly jealous of. But Frank had taken after their father in the way that truly mattered. He had inherited their father's administrative skills and political savvy, and mountains of charm that made an impression on everyone. Francis Harcrow was the one who could one day become Chief of the Wakefield Shipyard. He was already an administrative assistant on the shipyard. He was the future of the family. Not like Denys.

Denys didn't care about politics or advancement. And while there was obviously a job waiting for him on the shipyard, he had no interest in it. Denys wasn't that good around people, he was awkward and often stuttered when he was nervous. He preferred to keep to himself and tinker with his various projects. Worst of all, Denys liked to get his hands dirty. He didn't rely on the automation that had overtaken everything in human life, he liked to build things on his own. Denys was a step backward for the Harcrow family. An embarrassment. Or, at least, that was the way Denys had always felt about it. Not that his father ever did anything to reassure him. 'Don't be disrespectful'...what that really meant was 'don't embarrass the family.'

Once breakfast was finally over, Denys grabbed his backpack and left the home. He swiped his hand by the black sensor by his front that opened up with a rush. Denys then, ironically, stepped out to the building interior. The 'buildings' of Wakefield which ran from the bottom of the city-station up to the edge of the Upper-Station as support beams for the City but they were also technically hollow. Inside each building there was a large vertical shaft which is where the front doors to the homes built into the sides were located. Denys always got a sense of vertigo whenever he stepped outside, even with everything being enclosed to conserve oxygen. He could almost see all the way down to Wakefield sewers, distinguished only by the darkness at the bottom of the shaft.

Denys walked away from his front door and down the steps that led down from the wall that housed all the apartments and towards a platform that rested in the center of the vertical shaft. There were several such platforms in the interior of the building. Once he reached the platform, Denys was beset on by news feed peddlers. "Extra. Extra. Read all about it."

Wireless data was illegal among civilians, a measure to safeguard against alien hacks. That was the story the Union uses as an excuse at least. In reality, the crackdown on wireless data was designed to hamper the cyber-underground, not that it did anything of the sort, and control the flow of information among civilians.

All Union-Approved news publications had stands at areas of heavy traffic where they would offer to link up to people's personal tablets and upload their latest editions for a price. Denys didn't have a personal tablet, he didn't like computers, and, even if he did, he no interest in the news. It was Rhea Day weekend, the prominent member of the Chancellor's Cabinet was coming...everyone was saying the exact same thing in slightly different ways. Why spend credits on it?

Denys just pressed through the news peddlers, walked off the platform, and into a tunnel that led him out of the building interior and into the crowded walkways of Wakefield's Central-Station. It was a loud environment but Denys had mastered the art of blocking out the chatter and all of those screens blasting out content. Denys was always more into the architecture of the City-Station itself. It was so cluttered yet strangely organized. Between all the towering buildings there were platforms upon platforms containing shops, theatres, bars, and restaurants. There were tunnels and staircases for people to move from platform to platform. And, between them all, there were all the transit lines carrying people to new locations. Just layers of construction piled on top of itself. Denys wondered how the city looked back when it was first constructed.

It was so crowded, but also well lit. Denys lived close to the Upper-Station, where the rich lived, and if he looked up he could see the brightness of the artificial skyline that beamed down from it. He had never been up there but that apparently was about to change. As deputy chief, Elliot Harcrow had an invitation for him and his sons at the Rhea Day Memorial Gala every year. Denys had always managed to avoid going but, with such an important dignitary coming to the city, he knew he wouldn't be able to get out of it this year. But Denys didn't want to think about tomorrow, he had places to be...and it wasn't school.

Again, it was Rhea Day weekend, there was nothing to be learned from school. Having recently turned 18, Denys was just old enough to remember Rhea without the propaganda. He was only three at the time but he still remembered, it was one of his earliest memories. He didn't want it to be though. Denys refused to let his mind go back to that day.

Denys navigated his way to a nearby Transit-Terminal, swiped his student card, and got on the transit-car that was meant to take him to school. As a student he didn't have to pay credits for transit but, because of that, he didn't have to re-swipe when he got to his destination. A stupid glitch in the system that few people noticed because everyone swiped their cards again at their destination like normal. Denys, however, didn't like computers and he loved to spot flaws in them. All he had to do is get off a few stops early and he was free to go about his day. Until then, he just sat down in his seat and waited.

"Do you feel incomplete?" The screen built into the back of the seat in front of him asked. It was an ad.

"Do you feel lost or broken?" The woman in the ad asked again. "Because United-Pharmaceuticals can help. Since the 'Death of Earth', U/P has helped humanity adapt to space-life with their line of Vitamin-D supplements but we know that is not enough. Survival is nothing without strong emotional and mental health to make that survival worth having. With their diverse line of medications, U/P can help you become the best version of yourself."

The ad continued with a series of testimonials from customers. "I had problems sleeping." "I had problems getting myself up in the morning." I couldn't stand in a crowd without panicking." "But I am better now?" "I am better now." "I am better now."

The ad then concluded with an image of U/P's logo. "United-Pharmaceuticals...Together, we can improve ourselves."

Following the ad, the morning news came on. Discussing Ryker...again. Denys rolled his eyes and switched it off. He just sat there and waited for the transit-car to arrive at the destination he was waiting for...The Wakefield Factory. It was right on the route to school, couldn't be more perfect. Denys stepped off at the early stop and worked his through the crowds. The factory was a pit-stop for him, Denys needed new materials. Denys made his way to one of the side entrances where he spotted his main contact. "Barry."

The middle-aged Barry turned and sighed. "Shouldn't you be in school today?"

"Oh, we're not learning anything today." Denys pleaded. "Come on, just a quick peek?"

Barry sighed again. "Fine, but only what you can carry in that backpack."

"That's all I need." Denys opened up his bag as Barry swiped his security pass. Barry was one of the recycling-engineers, he had access to all the scrap. And, of course, the Factory didn't just deal in its own scrap, all the scrap created from shipbuilding in the Shipyard is sent here for recycling. Denys quickly went from scrap-boat to scrap-boat, picking out whatever pieces and parts he found appealing. Once his bag was full, he thanked Barry and went about his business. He walked back out of the factory and into the crowds...that's when he saw her.

Denys didn't expect to see her this morning, she usually worked the evening shift. Why was she here? Denys tried to calm himself. Maybe today he could say something. But she was probably running late, he couldn't do that. Well, he could say 'hi' at least.

"Hey, M-Mara." Denys stammered to himself, trying to figure out what to say. "Long time no....no that's stupid. Hey, remember me...no, that's pathetic."

Denys stood there looking at her walk down from the steps of the transit-terminal with a big bag at her side. She pushed her long, brown hair back and turned towards his direction...his heart stopped and he quickly turned away and started walking. He moved through the crowds away from her cursing himself as he did. "Coward."


	5. Traitor's Blood

Another hard day of work was done at long last. Even as a half day it was extremely painful as Mara's body hadn't fully recovered from working the previous evening shift. But, in spite of that, Mara's day was significantly better than the previous one. No one died, and again, it was only a half shift. Though it certainly would've been better had she gotten any sleep. The trauma of Jose's death was still fresh in Mara's mind. She had nightmares all throughout the night and had gone through her shift in a fog.

After punching out, Mara changed out of her work uniform and got herself ready for the rest of the day. She went to one of the sinks in the locker room to fix herself up. Mara grimaced at the sight of herself in the mirror, she looked like crap. Her skin was cracking, her cheeks were gaunt below her pronounced bones, and there were nice bags under her eyes. Mara couldn't do much to make herself look presentable which was depressing, makeup was so expensive. Mara eventually decided to leave well enough alone as she packed up her and moved on with the rest of her day.

Mara left the Wakefield Factory, with her bulky oxygen bag at her side, physically and mentally exhausted as she fought her way through the Wakefield Crowds to get to the Transit-Terminal. Only, this time, home wasn't her destination. No, Mara's day was only half over. There was a reason why she forced herself awake to get to the morning shift, she had somewhere else to be during the afternoon. A place that Mara was actually excited to visit. And, with an actual smile on her face, Mara swiped her credit-card at the entrance of the Transit-Terminal to book her trip to the other side of Wakefield.

She didn't care that the Transit-Car was so crowded that she needed to keep the heavy oxygen tank on her lap. She didn't care how long the ride took, nearly 2 hours with all the stops. She didn't even care about the cost to make the trip was an expense that she really couldn't afford to make. All she cared about were the looks on all the kids' faces when she got there. She never grew tired of them.

Eventually, the Transit-Car reached Mara's stop. She climbed over the passenger who was sitting next to her, apologizing as she did so. The oxygen bag made it difficult to get around as she fought through her aching muscles. She stepped off the Transit-Car, swiped her credit-card again, and moved on. The walk wasn't as long as it was when she traveled home which was a relief. Mara felt downright relaxed when she arrived at the Wakefield Orphanage.

Mara had been here many times. In fact, she had lived at the orphanage for 6 years. She hated it for the longest time but, by the time she had left, it was home. And now it was the only place in Wakefield she could find any happiness.

She entered the Orphanage and was immediately greeted by its headmistress, Elizabeth Lowell. "Mara, so good to see you."

She gave Mara a hug. Liz, well into her fifties, stood more than a foot shorter than the tall Mara, had short blonde hair, glasses, and generally had a bookish appearance. Liz looked at Mara's face. "You haven't been sleeping."

Mara shrugged. "I've been very busy."

"I'm sure you have." Liz sighed. After the loss of her parents, Liz had become a bit of a surrogate mother to Mara. Just as she did for all the orphans who came into her care. Liz dedicated her entire life to the care of the lost children of Wakefield, and she never stopped worrying for them. "You can always not come here, Mara. Get some rest."

Mara shook her head. "I would prefer to spend as little time at home as possible."

"Ok." Liz said with a smile. "Well, the kids are always happy to see you."

The Orphanage was the home of several hundred children of various ages. The youngest kid there was 5 years old and the children were housed there until the age of 18. Though, Liz did everything she could to bend the rules for those who needed a little help getting on their feet out in the city. Mara had actually stayed there until she was 20 when she decided to leave to make room for new orphans. But to this day Liz did whatever she could to help Mara out. As much help that Mara would accept.

The Facility was large but mostly plain in design. With its grey walls, long hallways, designated living areas, and cafeteria, it was a rather sterile environment. It was lightened up by the drawings and paintings done by the orphans over the years. They were mostly of extinct animals and images of Earth-Bound cities and forests. Things that were once real but now were the stuff of children's fantasies. Mara spotted one that had been done by her when she was 14. it was a Lion, a recent addition to the extinct-list. The Lioness that lived at the Wakefield Zoo was the last.

Mara and Liz walked up to the entrance to one of the classrooms in the orphanage. One of the tutors, Hillary, was finishing up the day's lesson for preteen kids. "And so, it was after the Rhea-Dredar Accords were agreed to that the Madralen Nebula become the official border between Human and Madralen space."

Hillary pushed the button on her remote to trigger the screen on the wall in front of all the desks to update its image. A simulated display of the large Madralen Nebula zoomed out to allow a red-line spread out from forming a wall between the areas of Space labeled as 'Human' and 'Madralen'. Hillary then continued. "No human vessel may cross the red line. Same for the Madralens."

"What about the nebula?" One of the kids asked.

"The Nebula." Hillary answered. "Is a neutral zone. Neither side can build anything within but they can send scout ships to ensure that terms of the accord are followed."

"I heard no one has ever seen a Madralen." Another Kid chimed in. "How did we sign the accords?"

"That's true. There was no middle ground for us to meet on and neither side would agree to meet each other on the other's ships. And that was after the days it took for us to translate each other's languages so that we could negotiate the accords to begin with."

"But why would the Madralens even agree to the accords if they are so strong?" One of the boys asked. "And why didn't the Union want to fight back after what they did to Rhea? How many planets do they actually have?"

Hillary shrugged. "We don't know. And they don't know how many planets we have."

"But we don't have any planets."

"They don't know that. And does anyone here know why?"

"Mutual-Assured-Uncertainty'. Several of the kids answered in unison.

"Very good, Mutual-Assured-Uncertainty. The distance between Human and Madralen space is massive and it takes so long for light to travel between the stars. Even with the most powerful telescopes, any pictures from Madralen space or human space would be hundreds or thousands of years old. Because of this, the Madralens simply don't know how many of us there are or that we don't have any planets."

"So, we're bluffing them." The boy asked.

"Yes." Hillary answered. "That is why the Union has taken such measures to protect the flow of information."

Mara could practically feel Hillary's frustration at using the word 'protect' instead of 'control'. The Union-Government used the Madralen threat to seize complete control of the flow of data within the United-Sector, control they quickly used to their advantage. But Hillary carried on with the government-approved lesson. "It is the duty of the Union to ensure that the truth about the state of the human race doesn't leak to the Madralens. A job that we all must trust in their ability to do so."

From the back of the classroom, Liz held up her arm and motioned to her watch to signal to Hillary it was time to wrap the lesson. Hillary, having just then noticed Mara standing there with Liz, nodded and said to the kids. "Alright everyone, that's the end of today's class. Remember, next Monday, After Rhea Day, we're going to be visiting the Memorial at Wakefield Central Park."

The kids all stood up from their desks and immediately took notice of Mara. The bulk of them cheered with excitement. Mara was the favorite tutor of many of the kids in the orphanage, though she wasn't technically one of the tutors. They all rushed over each other to try to give Mara a welcoming hug but Liz quickly put an end to that. "Alright, everyone. She just got here, so go put you school stuff away and you can see her in the cafeteria."

The kids all left the classroom, a few sneaking in a few hugs on Mara as they did. She returned all the hugs. Once all the kids were gone, Hillary came over. "Sorry about that, they're always so happy to see you."

"It's fine." Mara replied. "The feeling is mutual. So, how did today's lesson go?"

Hillary gave a rather sarcastic snot, pulling back her long red hair as she did. "You mean my 'Trust the Union if you want to live' lesson I have to give every Rhea Day week. It went very well. Very well, indeed."

"Oh, stop it." Liz chimed in. "It didn't kill you, did it?"

"I would have preferred it did."

The three women then made their way to the cafeteria, where all the children were gathering for dinner now that the day's classes were done. The other tutors in the orphanage worked patiently to get them into an organized line to grab their dinner. The food wasn't really anything special. It was called 'stew' but it was mostly just a bowl of slop. It was made mostly of artificial ingredients to give the orphans the basic nutrients they need to survive. Most of the kids had gotten used to it but they were always overjoyed when they were actually able to eat something delicious.

Mara sat herself down at one of the tables and chatted with several of the kids. Mara loved kids, she found it relaxing to sit down and talk to them. They would always share what they were learning about in class, the art projects they were working on, and what they hoped to do once they got out of the orphanage.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be a pilot." One of the boys said.

"Are you?" Mara asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to join the Union-Security force and fly fighters."

"Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to have you."

One of the other boys stood up from the other end of the table. "I would never join Union-Security. I'd rather join the 'Hoods'!"

"The hoods aren't real." One of the girls at the table shouted back.

"There are so. I heard that they rescue people with no home and take them to the rogue-sectors to be free from the Union. I heard that they steal from the rich and give to the poor. I would join them in a heartbeat."

"Oh, would you?" Liz stated playfully. "Well, then you better sit down before I report."

The boy at the end of the table sat down as responded. "Go ahead, I can take them."

"I'm sure you can."

Mara laughed at the whole along with several of the other orphans, but she had heard of the 'Hoods' before. They were as real as the Cyber-Underground though she had never met a hood before. She often considered finding one to take her away from the Union when she was growing up in the orphanage but the stories about them became a lot less romantic once she went out into the adult world.

"I don't want to take it." Mara heard another boy say. She turned to see one of the other tutors, Martin, talking to the boy, she thought his name was Kenny, who was refusing to take all of his pills.

"Look, you have to take it." Martin diplomatically said to Kenny.

Kenny shook his head. "I don't like that one, it makes me feel weird."

"And what happens when you don't take it?"

"I get hyper."

"And what happens when you get hyper?"

"I use up all the oxygen and we all die."

After that Kenny relented and agreed to take the final pill. The scene put a pit in Mara's stomach. It was one thing to require pills to fight off the kind vitamin deficiency that life in space can lead to. But the Union had a standard on how people were supposed to behave, on what was 'normal'. Any deviation was considered an illness to be treated and United-Pharmaceuticals took great pride in their ability to help people 'Become Better'. Mara remembered Liz being resistant to the policy while she was growing up in the orphanage, but that clearly didn't last. The Wakefield Administration probably threatened to fire her if she didn't comply. Liz would do anything to protect the kids, but she would sometimes have to bend to keep herself in a position to help. So, Mara decided to keep her mouth shut and trust Liz's judgement.

Mara continued to sit and chat with the kids at her table for about another half hour before Liz and a couple of the tutors wheeled out their surprise. Suddenly, just about everyone in the room was singing 'Happy Birthday' to Mara who turned around and saw not one, but 4 large cakes out. Mara had a big smile on her face. She had completely forgotten that today was her birthday, she had just started thinking of herself as 24 without much care. Her birthday wasn't really a day she was fond of celebrating anymore. But she couldn't help but be touch but what Liz had organized for her.

When the song was done, Liz announced to the room. "Everyone who had a birthday this month gets first slices."

"Yes!" Mara yelled to the room. "But first they're going to get a special birthday hug from me."

And that was exactly what she did. Mara stood up from the table and proceeded to give all of the birthday kids a hug before giving each of them of a slice of cake before treating herself to a slice. There were 11 kids with a birthday this month. One by one, Mara exchanged 'Happy Birthdays' with each of the kids. One of them was a little girl she had tutored before named Joanne. "Hey, Joanne. How old are you know?"

"I'm nine." Joanne answered.

"Are you?" Mara said playfully. "What did you do for your birthday?"

"My friends all made me a card and Hillary set up a party in the classroom."

"Oh, that's sweet."

"Do you remember what you did for you're ninth birthday?"

Mara paused for a moment, struggling to maintain her smile. "No, I don't."

That was a lie of course. Mara remembered exactly what she did for her ninth birthday...

...Mara could remember being woken up in the morning by her mother, Marissa Hardsand. "Wake up, sweetie. We have a big day for you."

That was certainly the case. Once the young Mara got herself up from bed, she went down to the kitchen where her parents had prepared a big breakfast for her. It was big pile of pancakes, Mara's favorite. She didn't have to worry about food back then. The Hardsand Family lived pretty well back then in the higher levels of the Central-Station, back when the Hardsand name was 'respectable'.

Both of her parents were respected journalists in the Wakefield Press, though they were very different kinds of journalists. Marissa Hardsand was an opinion-journalist, often giving stern critiques of the actions of the Government. Mara's father, Javier Hardsand, was an investigative-journalist, constantly digging to discover the truth. The Hardsands came from a long line of reporters dating all the way back to Earth. It was actually a Hardsand who originally broke the story that Humanity's oxygen supply was beginning to drop. A fact that the Union Government initially tried to cover-up. It wasn't a mystery why Mara's father chose the field he did or that he ultimately ended up marrying a fellow journalist after he did.

But at the new age of nine, Mara didn't care about any of that. She didn't think much about the Oxygen-Crisis, she didn't understand most of what her parents said to each other when they 'Talked Shop', and she didn't think much about family legacy. She did care about where they were going for her birthday though. She scarfed down her breakfast and she led the way out of the home. Mara's parents teased her a bit about whether or not they were still going but she was not having any of it, she wanted to see it. She had to.

Finally, her parents dropped the games and left the home with Mara who was basically bouncing for joy during the Transit-Car ride. She was so excited, none of the other kids in her class had been able to see it yet. They were all going to be so jealous of her. Her parents could hardly contain her when they arrived at the Wakefield Observatory. The Observatory had always been a popular destination, young couples would go there and look out among the stars. But, on the day of Mara's ninth birthday, it was the hottest place to be.

Ever since the discovery was made after City-Stations of Humanity had made their most recent Light-Speed jump into the sector, it was the only thing anyone wanted to see. And, in the week before Mara's birthday, when the City of Wakefield had finally moved into a position where it could get a good glimpse of it, the waiting list at the Observatory had become months long and was only getting longer. But Mara's father had an 'in' at the Observatory, an old friend who was able to get the Hardsands to the front of the line for their daughter's birthday.

Javier thanked his friend who greeted them at a side entrance to avoid the crowds and led them through the facility. The Wakefield Observatory was huge, home to many telescopes of various sizes and purposes, along with many platforms with seating where people could look out at the stars. Mara had never seen the stars before, they were beautiful. The giant red cloud was massive and enchanting. She could've just stared at them all day and been satisfied, but the stars weren't the main event. The Nebula wasn't the gift her parents had taken her there to see.

Her father's contact took them up to the Observatory's primary telescope. By far the biggest of them all, the telescope was twice the size of an entire Transit-Train. On the platform where the viewer was were several computers meant to study the signals of what the telescope was looking at. Javier's friend double checked everything before motioning to the Hardsand to look through the viewer. "Fourth dot from the star."

Mara's father looked first before his wife and then back to her father. They went 'ooh' and 'awe' to tease their daughter who was bouncing up down with excitement. "Oh, just let me see. Let me see!"

"Ok." Javier picked his daughter and held her up to the viewer. "Do you see it? Remember, fourth rock from the sun."

Mara held her right eye on the viewer of the telescope and looked at the star system it was pointed at. It had a beautiful blue star and, around it, there were about nine dots. Nine Planets. In her head, counted out the planets starting from the blue star and going out. One. Two. Three. And four. There it was. It was just a dot in the telescope but it was still the most amazing thing anyone living had seen. Mara smiled. "That's it? That's Terra-Nova?"

"Yep," Mara's mother answered, "That's Terra-Nova."

It was the only thing anyone was talking about. After over three centuries in space, Humanity had finally found a planet they could live on. A planet they could call home. For a girl who had known nothing but the sterile environment of outer-space, it was the stuff of fantasies. But, for Mara, there was a chance that fantasy could come true. "How long until we can move there?"

Javier's friend answered. "Not for a while. Based on the readings, the planet's atmosphere is nearly identical to Earth before it's decline. Mostly Nitrogen, with a mix of other gasses but there is one thing missing. Oxygen. But the Union has already launched the first wave of the terraforming. Machines that can convert it's CO-2 to oxygen, begin planting algae, and pumping water particles into the. It'll be many decades before any human could hope to live there but the early signs seem promising."

"Your father and I will never be able to live there, Mara." Marissa explained to her daughter. "But, if everything goes well, You might be able to build a house for your children."

...Needless to say, things did not go well. Terra-Nova was long gone. It was nothing but a fantasy. And, as happy as Mara was back then, 24 year-old Mara didn't like to think about that day much. She would much rather just sit down and eat cake with all the kids of the Wakefield Orphanage. She wished could remain at the orphanage forever and chat with the kids about their days, about their art projects. It was always much better than going back out into the adult world, which cast off so many children into the orphanage to be forgotten about. They deserved better than that.

"Let me see that bowl." Mara heard Liz say. She turned and saw her speaking to one of the kitchen staff who was taking the dinner bowls back to the kitchen. Liz looked at one of them.

"She needs to eat more than that."

"I don't know what to tell you." The kitchen hand responded. "She takes a few bites and then she just sits there."

Mara looked around the cafeteria and soon spotted the kid they were talking about. She was sitting alone at a table in the far corner. Mara didn't recognize her.

"Alright." Liz conceded to the kitchen hand. "We'll give her a slice of cake and see if she eats. But then I want a fresh bowl of stew in front of her. The girl is far too thin."

"Of course." The kitchen hand returned to the kitchen as Liz stood there and shook her head as Hillary went over to talk to her.

Mara excused herself from the table she was sitting at and joined them. "New arrival?"

Liz nodded. "Yeah, she showed up here alone a few days ago."

"What's her name?"

"We don't know. She hasn't said a word since she got here. There was no missing girl alert. And she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a giant bag make-up products. Probably stolen."

"Make-Up?"

"It's cover-up make-up." Hillary explained. "She has it all over her face and neck, and she has long gloves going up to her sleeves. She's not letting anyone see her."

Mara's heart dropped as the realization hit her. "Somebody beat her up?"

"She's certainly traumatized." Liz answered. "She wouldn't even bath the first day she was here. I had to guarantee complete privacy for her while she showered and reapplied her make-up while Hillary stood guard outside the bathroom. And, even after that, she still won't say a word."

"Maybe she's mute." Hillary suggested.

"Maybe." Liz thought about it. "Mara, why don't you give some cake and try to talk to her? You have a way with kids."

"Of course." Mara grabbed a piece of cake and walked over to the new arrival.

When she got there, Mara took a good look at the girl. She seemed to be about thirteen years old, had dirty-blonde hair, and was short. Very short. And Liz was right, the girl was far to thin. Mara stepped up to the table. "Hey."

The girl, who didn't see Mara walk up, shuddered at the sound of her voice and turned away.

"I didn't mean to startle you." Mara said softly. 'I just wanted to give you some cake."

Mara placed the plastic plate on the table and slide it over to the girl who looked down at the slice. Up close, Mara could see the Liz and Hillary were not exaggerating. The girl had completely covered her face with a thick layer of make-up. She had applied it very well, from a distance there didn't seem to be anything wrong. But, while standing next to her, Mara could see something was very wrong. She didn't even want to imagine the kind of bruises she was covering up. She sat down next to the girl. "My name is Mara. What's yours?"

The girl didn't answer.

"It's ok." Mara reassured. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I just want to say that you're safe here. You can take it from me. I was about your age when I first came here, after my parents died. I was scared and alone. But Liz and tutors helped me. And they can help you...you came to the right place."

The girl turned slightly to look at Mara through her hair. It was then that Mara noticed that she had yellow-green eyes that were so lovely they seemed to simmer. "Oh, your eyes are beautiful."

The girl had a sudden fit of panic. She turned back away and allowed her hair to cover more of her face.

"I'm sorry." Mara tried to calm the girl. "I was just trying to complime...never mind, How about you just eat some cake?"

Mara slid the plate further and set it right in front of the girl. "Go ahead. It's a birthday party, you have to eat some cake. Those are the rules. It's very good."

The girl lifted her trembling hand to grab the plastic fork. The poor thing seemed so scared and confused but she ultimately did try some of the cake. She didn't give much reaction to the taste of it though.

"I hope you liked it." Mara smiled. "I'll leave you alone. But before you do, can I have your name. That can be your birthday present to me."

The girl's eyes shifted around, as if she was trying to think of what it was she was going to answer with. "Sa...Si...So-Sorena."

"Sorena." Mara stood back up. "I love that name. It was nice to meet you, Sorena."

Sorena took another bite of the cake as Mara slowly walked away. She went back to Liz. "She says her name is Sorena. But, I'm pretty sure she made that up."

Liz sighed. "Well, it's a name at least. I'll run it against the missing children list along with her description and see what comes up."

"Ok." Mara looked back at the traumatized girl sitting alone before stating to Liz and Hillary. "Somebody definitely needs to get their ass kicked."

"We'll let you know who just as soon as she tells us about them." Hillary said firmly as Mara returned to the other kids to resume the party. The party went about another hour before it was time for all the kids to go to bed. Mara said goodbye to them all before being brought back into the kitchen by Liz. She grabbed some food and placed it in a bag. Mara shook her head. "No, you don't have to do that."

"I insist." Liz tied off the bag and handed it to her. "It's the least I can for all you do here. I just wish I could put you on the payroll."

"No, I get it." Mara put the bag of food into her large oxygen bag. "You can't have a 'Traitor's Blood' on the payroll. People will think I'm 'corrupting' the children."

"Yeah, but I can buy you a drink. Have a little grown-up birthday celebration."

"If you insist."

"I do."

With all the kids settled into their beds, Liz took Mara out to a nearby bar. Mara knew this last detour was more than celebrating her birthday but she would cross that bridge when Liz brought her to it. The bar was close enough so that they didn't need to walk far from the orphanage and it was late enough in the day where there weren't too many people walking about in this part of Wakefield, though the screens were still blaring obnoxious nonsense. When they arrived at the steps of the bar, to door suddenly opened up with someone being tossed out. Liz and Mara made sure to get out of the way before the man tumbled all the way down the steps.

The man slowly stood back up, quickly reaching into his plain dark coat to grab a flask that he had tucked so he could get right back to drinking. The man then stumbled off, presumably to another bar. Mara just shook her head as she followed Liz up the stairs. They entered the facility as Mara attempted to make conversation with the largely silent Liz. "So, it was cute how that one boy wanted to join the 'hoods'."

"Yeah." Liz responded as they reached the bar. "I don't quite have the heart to tell him that most hoods are just con-men who would probably sell him once they finished smuggling him to the Rogue-Sectors. There are exceptions, of course."

"Yeah, a few exceptions maybe. Though, I don't really know much about it myself. I don't even know how to find one."

Liz and Mara each took a podium at the bar and were quickly greeted by the bartender. "Welcome back to the Serenity. How can I serve you tonight?"

"Hey, Mal." Liz said back to the man. "Just a couple of beers for me and Mara here."

"No Problem."

"Oh, hey." Liz quickly added before Mal could make the drinks. "Just out of curiosity...You wouldn't happen to know any 'hoods', would you?"

"Sure." Mal answered by pointing to the door. "We just threw one out."

Liz and Mara looked at each other and laughed. Liz then jokingly said. "We'll wait for the next one."

"Smart choice, my lady." Mal went back to get the drinks.

Liz looked at Mara, "So, how is life?"

"It's fine." Mara answered.

"You seeing anyone?"

"Like I have time for that."

Mal set the drinks on the bar. "Enjoy, Ladies."

"Thanks, Mal." Liz swiped her credit-card on a sensor near her and turned back to Mara. "You would have time for a relationship if you didn't spend so much at the orphanage. Especially since I can't pay you for it."

"I like helping with the kids."

"Then meet someone and make your own. Or adopt one, make my life a little easier."

"I'm not really in a position to start a family right now." Mara drank her beer, she really didn't want to have this conversation.

"Well, again, if you didn't spend so much time at the orphanage-"

"I don't want to talk about this right now."

"I just want what's best for you, Mara."

"Well, I'm not allowed to have what's best for me. I'm 'Traitor's blood', Liz. What few jobs that haven't been automated won't hire me and.." Mara suddenly began to feel ill.

"Are you ok?"

Mara stood up from the bar and ran to the bathroom. Once there, she started puking her guts out. Liz was right behind her, she pulled Mara's hair back as she continued to throw up. She then grabbed some toilet paper for Mara after she was done. Mara apologized. "I'm sorry. I think I ate to much."

"You barely ate anythi...what's that?"

"What?"

Liz pointed to a red spot that was spreading on her shoulder. "That. What the hell is that?"

She pulled back the collar of Mara's shirt to see that the skin that had cracked from her lugging around her oxygen tank had split open and started to bleed. Liz became angry as she grabbed more toilet paper. "You've been selling your vitamin-D pills again, haven't you? And you're Vitamin-C packs."

"I was low on oxygen, what am I supposed to do? Suffocate?"

Liz pressed the toilet paper down on Mara's shoulder. "So, you just to do some drug deals in the Wakefield Sewers. You're lucky those sewer gangs don't just take your meds, your oxygen, and leave you for dead down there."

"I don't need a lecture."

"Like hell you don't."

Mara shoved Liz's hand away, fixed her collar, and stood up. Liz reached into her purse and pulled out her bottle of Vitamin-D pills. "Take these."

"I'm not taking your pills."

"I'm healthy. You're not. Take my pills or I'll just throw them down the drain and you can feel guilty about me wasting them."

Mara took the pill bottle and attempted to leave the bathroom. Liz stood in the way. "You need to get out of those Sewers, Mara."

"I don't have enough money to live anywhere else. I don't have any choice."

"Yes, you do. Hillary told me she offered you a couch and that you turned it down."

Mara scoffed. "Yeah, just take advantage of my friends until they all hate me."

"You'd rather just suffer and die down there."

"I'm not having this conversation." Mara shoved pass Liz and stormed out of the bathroom. She grabbed her giant oxygen tank, rested it on her other should, and left the bar. She went out onto the platform and began to make her way to the nearest Transit-Terminal when Liz came out after her. "Hey, so this all you want in your live. Just to slowly wither and die."

Mara turned and fired back. "Hey, I'm not the Hardsand that crossed the wrong people. I'm not the one that turned me into a stigma in my own city. I'm 'Traitor's Blood', Liz. I have no future. The Union made sure of that."

"Just because you are a victim doesn't mean you have to play victim, Mara."

That got under Mara's skin in a bad way. "Oh, piss off."

Mara turned and stormed off, ignoring everything else Liz was yelling to her. She went up to the Transit-Terminal, swiped her card, and got onto the train that would take her home. She sat in her seat fuming, which wasn't helped by that damn screen in front of her switching back on. More news about 'Rhea Day'. Mara couldn't handle that right now. She quickly switched the screen back off. She didn't need help remembering that Rhea Day was just a couple of days after her birthday, how could she ever forget it. It still burned in her mind like it all just happened. The day that everything went wrong...the day Humanity learned to fear the stars...

...9 year old Mara could her mother crying. She went downstairs to see what was wrong. Her mother and father were watching Chancellor Sinclair on the screen giving an address. An address that hand sent out to all the cities. "...We do not yet know the identity of the attackers or where they came from. We do not know how extensive their territory is or how many of them there are. But, their attack on humanity was a clear statement. We are not alone in out here anymore my fellow citizens, a lesson we have learned in the worst way possible. The City-Station of Rhea has been destroyed. Of its four million residents, only thirty-thousand are confirmed to have escaped alive. I have authorized the Union-Security forces to open negotiations for a truce..."

Thirty-Thousand out of Four million. Even at the age of nine, Mara understood the significance of that number. The number of people who died. Humanity's punishment for trying to claim a world that wasn't there's....

And now, Fifteen years later, Mara stormed her way through the Wakefield sewers and returned home. She plugged the oxygen tanks back into her life support system and then...something went wrong again. The machine suddenly went down and red lights started flashing on it. Mara quickly pulled one of the oxygen tanks back off and plugged her mask back into it before she suffocated. She looked at the life support system, it was flashing 'Error' 'Maintenance Required'. Mara broke down into tears and collapsed onto the floor. She then said to herself. 'Happy Birthday, Mara."


End file.
